


never knowing where we're going

by TheAceApples



Series: Maul & C(l)o(nes) [4]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Dark CC-2224 | Cody, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Dom/sub Undertones, Extremely Dubious Consent, First Time, GFY, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Mistaken Identity, On said Time Travel, POV Outsider, Possessive Behavior, Possessive Sex, Praise Kink, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sith CC-2224 | Cody, Submissive Darth Maul, Uninformed Consent, Unsafe Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-24
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-15 19:14:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28943532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheAceApples/pseuds/TheAceApples
Summary: Darth Sidious takes a second Apprentice, though there can be only one Master.
Relationships: CC-2224 | Cody/Darth Maul
Series: Maul & C(l)o(nes) [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1756165
Comments: 13
Kudos: 50





	never knowing where we're going

**Author's Note:**

> An anon over on tumblr asked for: "cody x maul where Cody's a Sith too?"
> 
> Probably—almost certainly—not what they had in mind but like. This sure is what happened.
> 
> Didn't know whether this was more noncon than dubcon so I tried to cover my bases and a more detailed explanation is in the end notes.

He is nineteen Standard years of age when his Master takes a second Apprentice.

It breaks the Rule of Two—the most basic tenet of the Sith—but his Master is nothing if not cunning and Maul is not strong enough to challenge him. He accepts his Master's heresy and watches, carefully, as the interloper is brought before them on Mustafar. The most shocking of it all is that Maul recognizes his fellow Apprentice.

Lord Sidious has trained him to know the faces of their many enemies and the Human standing proudly before their Master is a face he knows well. Even with unfamiliar armor to cover the brown skin and broad features, Maul would know the fallen leader of the last of the Mandalorians. Now, thanks to his Master, Jango Fett is now the Fallen leader of the last of the Mandalorians.

Maul longs to know how such a thing came to pass, how the Mandalorian became skilled enough in the ways of the Force to catch his Master's attention, but knows better than to ask. He burns quietly with the questions instead, watching his rival with hatred in his heart.

The hatred grows as Fett's training begins.

They are pitted against each other, again and again, and Maul burns again, now with humiliation and fear, as the Mandalorian defeats him, _again_ and _again._ At first he fights like a Mandalorian warrior, like a _soldier,_ and that throws Maul off—expecting him to fight with the Force flowing through him when he only uses his body and its knowledge to put Maul down into the ground, hard. Then when Maul begins to learn, to win, he changes, using the Force when Maul does not expect it, where he never did before, and knocking him of balance yet again.

His Master punishes him for his failures with Fett watching impassively, submissive to Lord Sidious but never obsequious, never begging for forgiveness even when he himself is being punished for mistakes. Fett takes his punishments, his pain, silent and prideful, then stands back up—when he is allowed, when he is able—and rectifies his mistakes.

Maul hates him even more for his strength, when Maul so often falls prey to weakness.

It continues like this for months, their rivalry growing in leaps and bounds as Lord Sidious watches on, pleased. Maul becomes accustomed to the flush of anger and fear when looks into the pristine white faceplate of Fett's helmet, feeling little in the Force as the Mandalorian iron shields his presence almost entirely. The little he ever gleans from Fett's mind is a roil of determination, sometimes edged in amusement like the sharp, golden lines on his armor.

His Master plots and schemes, building and enacting plans against the Jedi, steadily amassing more and more power. The time when they shall reveal themselves to the galaxy, to take their revenge, approaches swiftly. _Then_ Maul will be able to prove his worth, once and for all. He is _certain_ of it.

That dream shudders and dies with Lord Sidious, a smoking slug of metal to the back of his head removing him swiftly from this plane and dispersing his presence in the Force.

For all that he spoke of the ways of the Sith, the Rule of Two, how the Apprentice would rise up to become the Master, it takes him by surprise—takes them both by surprise, and with Maul, no small amount of horror—when the Mandalorian does so. It is anathema to Maul that Lord Sidious should die, should be struck down by anyone but himself, far in the future, that he does nothing to protect him, and nothing to protect himself.

He stays rooted in place as he kneels before his Master's throne, staring at nothing more than a cooling corpse.

Fett will kill him next, he distantly knows. He is the Master now, and will find an Apprentice of his own. Someone to train in the ways of the Sith, perhaps in the ways of the Mandalorians as well, and perhaps that new Apprentice will defeat Fett in the same way—with cunning and deception and a cold, warrior's precision. He should prepare to defend himself, and reaches numbly for his 'staff, knowing that he will not win.

Maul has not won against his rival Apprentice in much time, and now he has failed the final test.

It is galling, in a strange, far-off way; he has been steeped in the ways of the Sith for as long as he can remember, yet he never could have predicted this.

His fingers curl around the cold metal of his 'staff and he looks up at Fett, standing in front of his Master's—now _this_ Master's—throne like a spectre of failure and impending doom.

Fett descends the stairs, looking down at Maul on his knees, and tilts his head. He holds out a hand and waits as Maul tries to understand his meaning. Does he take it? Is he meant to surrender? Let Fett step forward without protest and press the barrel of his slug-thrower beneath Maul's chin? Slip a vibroblade between his ribs, calmly and easily, smooth as a lover's embrace? He does not know.

He is too numb to do otherwise.

Fett pulls him to his feet yet makes no move to dispose of his failed rival. Instead he pulls him close, pressing their foreheads together, the chill of the Mandalorian iron in the heat of Mustafar feeling like benediction. Like forgiveness.

Maul has failed, yes.

He is a failed rival, a failed Apprentice, a failed Sith. But standing in front of Fett, gloved hands holding his shoulders in a firm yet gentle grip, he no longer feels it.

Perhaps, with his death, he will finally be allowed to rest.

But the blow never comes.

Fett does not strike him down.

He holds him and holds him and _holds him_ until the quaking and shivering subside, until Maul is still in his grasp, then pulls away. He places a finger under his chin and tilts his head up from where it was bowed. Maul cannot see his eyes behind the helmet, but does his best to meet his gaze with dignity. A thumb swipes across his cheek and for a wild moment, Maul fears he might be crying, but there is no feeling of drying liquid across his skin.

"You're _my_ Apprentice now, understood?" Fett says, tone brooking no argument, voice distorted slightly by the helmet's vocoder. It is not the first time Maul has heard him speak, yet he has never been verbose, and each time the soft lilt of his voice sends shivers down his spine. Maul's hearts speed up at the declaration and he says nothing, until Fett's grip tightens and he repeats, _"Understood?"_

Maul assuredly does _not_ understand, but he lowers his gaze and murmurs, "Yes, my Master," nonetheless.

In his peripheral vision, he sees Fett nod, then nearly jumps as an arm slides around his shoulders and Fett pulls him along, out of the throne room.

This confuses him even more, and Maul attempts to follow obediently at—at _his Master's_ heel, but Fett's grip his strong and he keeps Maul firmly at his side. Concerned, perhaps, that Maul will attempt to attack him. It is not a poor idea, excepting that Maul was not strong enough to defeat Lord Sidious, and _certainly_ not strong enough to defeat Lord... Fett?

It occurs to him, as they move quickly through the corridors, that he does not know his new Master's title.

Lord Sidious had only ever called him 'Fett' or 'Mandalorian' and Maul had followed suit; he does not think that will be the case from now on, but he also does not know what punishments Lord Fett will favor should Maul falter. Lord Fett already knows his failings as an Apprentice, and as they move deeper and deeper into the facility, Maul can feel his hearts beating wildly in his chest. He does not know what Lord Fett will want with an Apprentice who has already proven himself unworthy of the title of Sith.

One who does not even know his own Master's name.

He shivers and continues to follow where his Master leads, keeping his fear at bay as much as he can.

When Lord Fett finally comes to a stop and keys open a door, Maul's hearts burst into a gallop before settling as he understands. The room is Lord Fett's, taken up almost entirely by a large bed covered in slippery golden fabric. He finally, _finally_ begins to understand, even as he wants to shy away.

Sidious had never punished him in such a way, preferring to use simpler forms of pain to teach him, but Maul can see the sense in Lord Fett raping him. It will be his first punishment and lesson all in one; after all, as Lord Fett has proven, Maul will not always win his battles against those who are not Sith or Jedi, and subjecting him to new forms of pain may prove useful in the long-run. If Maul is defeated by an opponent who enjoys such brutalization, then he will already be familiar with their methods, rather than unprepared for such an occurrence.

He is propelled gently into the room by Lord Fett, who says, "Take off your clothes and get on the bed," in the same even tones that he has ever used before.

Bowing his head, Maul does as he is bid. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees his Master removing his Mandalorian armor, piece by efficiently-stripped piece, the gentle clang of each one being set on a nearby table the only sounds punctuating the silence. When he is bare, he moves toward the bed only to pause, unsure.

"How should I..."

He uncertain of how to phrase the question, but his Master seems to understand.

"On your belly," he says, and Maul almost turns to look, for his voice is unfiltered and the rasp of fabric across skin indicates that Lord Fett will be completely bare as well. Then, like an afterthought, "Put a pillow underneath your hips."

Maul swallows and does that as well, feeling shaky and exposed in the soft lighting of Lord Fett's bedroom. The sheets are shimmersilk, he observes wildly, an obscene luxury that seems at odds with his Master's disposition. But then, Sidious had enjoyed fine things as well; it was only Maul, it seems, who was denied them. The thought should make him angry, but that will come soon, he thinks.

Pain and rage and fear and humiliation, he will feel them all very soon and they will strengthen his connection to the Dark Side.

An artificial-sounding pop breaks the silence and Maul does his best to contain a flinch, but clearly fails at that much as well, because a warm hand slides up his flank and his Master says, "Relax, sweetheart."

"Yes, my Master," Maul mutters, and he presses his face more firmly into the sheets, trying to loosen his muscles, to show his submission.

Lord Fett chuckles, low and dark, and Maul feels another flare of fear, almost panic. With the Mandalorian armor removed, Maul could reach out and touch his mind, gauge his mood, but Sidious had disliked such invasions and punished Maul viciously for them. He is already about to be punished; he does not need to invite more pain.

The hand returns, at back of his thigh just below his buttocks, and Maul does not flinch this time as his Master says, "Spread your legs," whisper-soft.

He swallows again and does so, and contains a jolt when he feels a slick finger press between his cheeks and rub carefully against his entrance. It is shocking even though Maul knew such touches were coming and he presses his face even more firmly into the bed. His skin feels like it's burning and he can feel both of his hearts lodged in his throat as the pressure increases, insistently pressing _in_ and then _in_ and then _in._

Over and over, the action repeats, until suddenly it is two slicked fingers and the stretch and burn is strange and uncomfortable and Maul feels as if he cannot breathe.

"You're doing so well," his Master says, behind him and above him and around him and _inside_ of him. "That's it, just breathe, sweetheart. That's all you need to do."

Maul tries, sucking in great gulps of air, desperate for oxygen even though every thrust of his Master's fingers drives it back out.

Another warm hand presses heavily between his shoulder blades and warm breath puffs against his ear, as Lord Fett coos, "Such a good boy, Maul. So _good_ for me," and Maul whines pathetically into the shimmersilk beneath them. The feeling of being on fire increases, his skin too hot and tight, and his Master's gentle voice as it curls around his name, _praising_ him for the way his body accepts his Master into it, makes Maul's spine arch and his hips move back into his Master's touch.

His Master chuckles again, sending a shiver down across Maul's skin, and he feels the sharp sting of teeth against the soft cartilage of his ear, there and gone.

"Good boy," he murmurs, then both hands are gone and Maul's dig into the sheet, shaking and twitching, unsteady even as he lies still. They return a long moment later, "Up on your knees, yes, sweetheart, just like that, spread your legs for me," and Maul struggles to understand, blinking liquid out of his eyes, doing as he's told.

 _Now the pain will come,_ he thinks blearily, as his hips are tugged gently up and tilted just so, as he feels his Master's hard cock press against him, as it slides into him with little resistance, slick and stretched as his body is. _Now the pain will come,_ as his Master rolls his hips in a gentle rhythm, pushing a little farther into him with each one, until his Master is a long line of heat draped across his back and settled deep inside of him like it's where he belongs, like he'll never leave. _Now the pain will come,_ as his Master goes still, does not move, as Maul struggles to regain equilibrium, split open and pinned beneath his Master, clawing at the sheets and wondering if all he is and will ever be from now on is sobbing, overheated flesh.

"So well, so good, you're being so good for me, sweetheart," his Master moans into his ear, hands rubbing up and down his sides, like he is an animal to be calmed. Perhaps he is; perhaps that is why he is reacting this way.

 _Where is the pain,_ he thinks, wonders, begs, shocky and confused and completely at Lord Fett's mercy. _What is the lesson._

"Sweetheart, I'm going to start moving now," Lord Fett says, hips hitching just slightly, keeping Maul in place and uncomprehending. "Just keep being good for me."

He can still hear an order, though he does not grasp what it means, and nods his head and gasps, "Yes, my Master," and bites back a whine as his Master pulls away and then pushes back in, lighting up every nerve along the way. This is not pain, not punishment that he is familiar with, and he does not understand.

Lord Fett swears in a language he does not understand as he continues to fuck him, fingers becoming tighter around his ribs as he pushes his cock _into_ and _into_ and _into_ Maul's open body. He feels liquid, like the lava that runs beneath the facility, like if Lord Fett were not pinning him down and holding him open and fucking him so steadily, he would melt away into nothingness.

"Oh, _stars,_ Maul," Lord Fett moans, hips snapping harder and forcing noises out of Maul's throat that he does not hear, cannot stop. "Feel so _good,_ being _so good_ for me. _Oh..."_

His next thrust skates over something deep inside of Maul and Maul does not think, only moans and shoves his hips back, seeking that feeling again, but it is a miscalculation, a mistake, for his Master shudders to a halt, still hard and hot inside his body. The hands gripping him tighten even further and Maul knows there will be marks in the shape of fingertips, even if he will not be able to see them.

His Master pulls away and Maul almost whimpers, almost _sobs,_ but he knows he was wrong to do such a thing and prepares for his punishment.

"Turn over," Lord Fett commands and Maul obeys, trying to smooth his face into something dignified and likely failing.

Lord Fett's own face is flushed but impassive, the dark brown of his eyes lost to the void of his pupils, and Maul's attention is caught, as it always is, by the scar curling around his left eye. His hands move slowly, placing one of Maul's ankles over his shoulder, and then presses inside him again, and Maul can feel his eyes prick with humiliation as his mouth falls open. This should hurt; it does _not._ "So good for me, aren't you, sweetheart?" Lord Fett whispers, the drag of his cock making Maul's eyes flutter. "Tell me."

"Y-yes, my lord, my Master, I'll be good for you," he gasps as Lord Fett leans down and presses them together fully, pressing his hot, wet mouth into the space below Maul's ear. The edge of his jaw. The center of his throat.

"No," he chides gently, making Maul whine. "You _are_ good for me. Say it."

"I'm." Another whine. "I'm good for you, Master."

"Yes, you are," he croons. "You're my good, _good_ boy. You're _mine._ Tell me."

"I'm yours," Maul agrees, half out of his mind with his Master's hands on his chest and mouth on his throat and cock fucking into him over and _over._

"Again," Lord Fett says, panting against his throat, his thrusts becoming rougher.

"I'm yours."

Hips snap harshly, drawing a cry from his throat.

_"Again."_

"I'm yours, I'm yours, I'm yours," he chants, nearly sobbing from sensation, from his Master's cock driving into him and moans dripping into his ear and hands pushing his leg up farther so that he can fuck him even more deeply. "I'm yours, Master, I swear it, I'm yours."

Lord Fett moans again, fucking him with bruising force now, and then a hand catches Maul's chin and Lord Fett kisses him, deep and filthy, uncaring that Maul does not know how to respond, has never done such a thing. He bites at his lips and uses a thumb to pry his mouth open and lick into him, moaning over and over as his cock shoves into the hot clutch of his body without end.

"I'm Cody," he groans into Maul's mouth, biting him again and again. "Say my name."

"Cody," Maul agrees, lips and mind buzzing. "Cody, Cody, _Cody._ I'm yours, Cody, I'm yours. No one else's. Just yours. _Cody!"_

"Oh, _sweetheart,"_ Lord Cody says, sounding overcome, "I'm never letting you go. You're mine, just mine, I'll keep you right here, right under me, where no one else can touch you. You want that, sweetheart?"

"Yes."

_"Say it."_

"I want this," Maul sobs, hands clutching desperately at Lord Cody's back, "I want you, just you, Cody, no one else. No one else can touch me, just you, Cody, _please."_

His Master snaps his hips so hard Maul sees stars and kisses his so deeply it feels like he's stealing the breath from his lungs and moans so loudly that if any other living thing resided in this facility, they would blush with understanding. Then he stills.

Beneath him, Maul shudders and whines, wanton, and when Lord Cody pulls away and looks between them, he feels himself go still with fear. He stares at the ceiling with glassy eyes, sure, suddenly, what the lesson of this is. He belongs to his Master, yes; he exists for his pleasure, yes; he will touch no one else and allow no one else to touch him, yes. But between them, his own cock is hard and leaking, and that is not permitted.

He stares and tries to will himself soft, tries to force himself to demand nothing, to want nothing, to not be greedy. He is not meant to take pleasure where his Master takes his.

It does not work, and Maul's feels sweat and tears running down his face, and he cannot breathe.

Then Lord Cody looks back up at him, expression dazed, warmer and more open than Maul has ever seen it, and he smiles beatifically. "Do you want to come, sweetheart?" he croons and Maul shudders, caught, silent. He leans down and licks over his lips, eyes dark and brimming with an unknown emotion. "It's alright," he says encouragingly, "you can come, Maul. Do you want to?"

"Y-yes, Master," Maul says, softly, like a death knell of his own making. "I—I want to come."

"My good boy, _sweet_ boy," his Master says, dragging the flat of his tongue across his mouth again, one of those warm hands closing around Maul's cock. "You've done such a good job for me, sweetheart, haven't you? Say it."

Maul sobs and tries to move into his Master's hand, but he is pinned fast and can only hold on as Lord Cody strokes him closer and closer to completion. "I've done a good job for you," he gasps.

"Do you feel good? Do I make you feel good? Tell me."

"You make me feel good," he fervently agrees. "You make me feel _so good,_ Master."

_"Cody."_

"Cody," Maul says, nodding, "Cody, Lord Cody, my Master, my Lord, feel so good, please, you feel so good, Cody, _please..."_

Lord Cody hums, increasing his pace and twisting his wrist. "You beg so prettily, sweetheart," he says, voice low and intent. "Do it again."

 _"Please,_ I _beg you,_ my Lord, my Cody, _pleaseplease **please..."**_

Maul wails as he finally climaxes, hips desperately trying to buck into his Master's hand, babbling incoherent pleas that would humiliate him at any other time. His Master, his Lord Cody, strokes him through it, murmuring praises and pressing dry kisses across his face. When he subsides into the bed, boneless and brainless, he is too spent to be afraid of his Master's temper.

_"Beautiful..."_

He fights the wave of exhaustion that washes over him, watching with hooded eyes as Lord Cody leaves the bed to wash his hands of Maul's spend. He has many scars across his body, but also not a few tattoos, though Maul cannot tell what they are or mean. He is barely awake when Lord Cody returns and stirs himself to leave his Master in peace, but his Master crawls on top of him and nibbles at his lips and slips his tongue into his mouth and Maul cannot help but moan and try to pull him closer. He will be afraid of this boldness, later, but so far his Lord Cody's touch has brought pleasure and he is greedy for it.

Lord Cody laughs into his mouth, catching the groping hands and pressing kisses, open- and close-mouthed, to his fingers and palms before pressing them back onto his own chest.

He does not, Maul only barely notices, make any move to either clean Maul or have him clean himself. His chest is splattered with his own come and he can feel his Master's dripping out of his body, sticky and tacky and unpleasant, but a reminder of _very_ pleasant things. Yet his Master kisses him and kisses him and kisses him, until he feels drugged with it, can barely move, and Lord Cody has to be the one to arrange themselves comfortably.

His Master lies mostly on his back, curled into Maul's body, which has been nestled into his side just so, careful of his horns for though he is just barely taller than his Master, Lord Cody has placed him slightly farther down his body. Brown arms encircle him and coarse, black-haired legs tangle with his, and the chest at his back beats with only one heart; it is the safest and most sated Maul has ever felt.

"So sweet for me," Lord Cody breathes, and Maul does not think before he replies, "I am sweet for you, my lord Cody," but his Master is not offended by the presumption. He laughs, long and loud, and pulls Maul even closer, stroking firm hands up and down his belly, heedless of the mess. "I'm going to take care of you now, sweetheart," he says, smug and sincere. "Going to take _such good care_ of you, you'll never want to leave. Understood?"

"Yes, Master," Maul mumbles, feeling the rumble of his voice more than the meaning of his words. "Won' ever leave."

"Good," Cody says and presses one last kiss to his temple. "Good. Don't you dare."

**Author's Note:**

> Cody becomes Sidious' second Apprentice, then kills him and takes his place as the Master and claims Maul for his own Apprentice. Maul thinks Cody will hurt him like Sidious did if he doesn't do what he says. Cody takes Maul to his bedroom and Maul believes that Cody means to violently rape him as either a teaching method as his new Master, or punishment for their rivalry when they were both Apprentices, or both. Maul accepts this as his due and does what he is told, and is confused when Cody preps him and fucks him, even though he enjoys it. Multiple times he does something to physically show his enjoyment and thinks that doing so will earn him punishment. At no point does Cody ask what Maul wants, or if he consents to anything, and while Maul _does_ consent, he doesn't _really_ understand that Cody is having sex with him just because he wants him. Up until the end, he thinks it's still some kind of lesson, although the nature of that assumed lesson changes multiple times throughout and he eventually settles on the idea that Cody is fucking him in order to secure his loyalty. Throughout the entire fic, Maul _also_ believes that Cody is Jango Fett, and even though Cody tells him his real name, Maul never questions this assumption, just takes it in stride and assumes it's a preference.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [we can never go astray](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29122071) by [TheAceApples](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheAceApples/pseuds/TheAceApples)




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